


Dancing With Joy

by Clueingforlooks221B



Series: Crumbled Paper (Paperhat crack fics) [1]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Crack? I think it's cracky, Dancing and Singing, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OOC Black Hat, Paperhat - Freeform, but in the end he levels out, crying flug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Every time one of Black Hat’s inventions sells really well, enough to reap in a lot more profits than usual, Black Hat gets happy.Well, happy is a weak adjective. He gets, over the top, elated.





	Dancing With Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to take a short break from Revenge: A Dish Best Served Cold. For people waiting on that it's in the drafting process right now :) 
> 
> I'm not editing this, so all mistakes are my bad aha.

Every time one of Black Hat’s inventions sells really well, enough to reap in a lot more profits than usual, Black Hat gets happy. 

Well, happy is a weak adjective. He gets, over the top, elated. 

And for everyone in the house, it’s concerning. 

Well... at first. For Flug it’s permanently strange, but Demencia and 5.0.5 love it. 

Black Hat is rarely ever genuinely happy. His usual grin weeps with mischief, and the glimmer in his eye is far from innocent joy. 

But when his inventions sell far more than his expectations? His grin stretches across his entire face, and is blinding from the light pouring out of his eye. Even his monocle shines. 

Flug can always tell he’s in one of his, what he calls, out of character moods, the second he comes into the room. Because he literally bursts in. 

He typically saunters in, most of the time Flug being so consumed in his work he can’t hear his footsteps. 

But, like today, Black Hat demands to be heard. 

He kicks the metal door open, so hard that the door goes soaring into checkered black and white wall.

A, what should be, impossible feat since the door is on metal hinges. 

Thankfully it narrowly misses a pipe, this time, or it would be another whole flood fiasco. And Flug did not want to spend hours mopping again; shoes squeaking for the next week because no matter what he does the water is saturated in the floor! Then Demencia had come in slipping around like it was an ice skating rink, causing her to linger in the lab even more than usual. 

Past Flug would have groaned at the condition of the lab’s wall. The door left another huge dent. But there’s so many burn marks and dents, that he has given up attempting to cover them with posters. 

The round lab door bounces off the wall, skidding a few centimeters across the lab and almost hitting Flug’s left foot.

Flug leaps, the beaker in his hands following his motion. It crashes onto the table, violet liquid and glass erupting. The liquid bleeds ivory bubbles, and devours the counter in one clean bite. It slinks onto the floor, disintegrating it. The last of the liquid has turned to a pink hue, oozing downstairs to chomp at the obsidian carpet. 

Flug gapes at the floor, before tossing his head back and groaning. He whips around to a, beaming, Black Hat. 

Under one arm he has 5.0.5. His arm digs into his neck, and Flug can feel his esophagus tightening just by witnessing this. He winces, although 5.0.5 is far from being in pain. He’s peering up at Black Hat, smiling with wide glistening pupils.

Honestly, Black Hat is worse than Demencia when he’s like this. 

Speaking of Demencia, she comes tumbling into the lab after them, giggling airily. One hand is glued to her cheek, where Flug is presuming Black Hat has kissed her. 

Black Hat releases 5.0.5, so abruptly the poor bear almost plummets to the floor. Black Hat catches him, yanking him into a tight hug. “Sixty six thousand six hundred! Come here you big oaf!” Black Hat cackles, squeezing the bear even tighter. 5.0.5’s eyes bulge out, his simper shrinking and twitching now.

Flug turns back to his, now soiled, work station. 

That beaker had taken hours to create. The potion had to sit overnight, and there’s components added in that Flug doesn't have extra of in the lab. Rare components that are going to take weeks to get shipped back in! And it wasn’t even done yet, it had just reached the third out of fifth stage. 

There goes that invention. 

His head thunks onto the part of the table that is still standing. Instant stinging shoots on his forehead, fading to a heavy throbbing. He growls again, but his clenched teeth shoves the noise back to mutely vibrate in his throat. 

Now he’s going to have to use his back up blueprints, which are still in the drafting process! They’re no where near useable, and will take days to evolve something useful out of. 

Once Black Hat gets out of his mood, he’s dead. 

Rising, his hands clench onto sides of his covered head, forehead resonating as he swallows down his crawling heart. It inflates in his chest, pushing his chest outwards and making his ribs flutter rapidly. He chokes on an inhale, staring down at the, now, smoking porcelain counter.

The feather of the dodo took him forever to find. It will be impossible to do so again, he’s going to have to change his whole formula! 

The tip of his nose and back of his irises start to burn, vision blurring. It’s like he’s staring deep into a snowy horizon, the harsh natural white blinding. 

Meanwhile Demencia hops into their embrace, somehow snuggling her upper body between Black Hat’s and 5.0.5’s. Black Hat tears apart the hug, shoving them both aside. Demencia squeaks in protest, tumbling into 5.0.5 who catches her in his chest. He steadies her by resting his paws on her shoulders. 

Black Hat’s upper lip smooths out, tilting to the right side of his mouth. Three fangs pop out, his gaze now directed on Flug. He struts towards him, a large bounce in his steps. 

Drawing his hand up, he swallows the lab’s door in the room’s shadows. He flings the door, and 5.0.5 and Demencia are left to jump out of the way; or else it would have rammed right into them. Black Hat was nice enough to swivel the door around Flug. 

The door fits back into the wall, screwing into place. 

The shadows turn to mumble under Flug, sealing the floor’s wound. The glass shakes, lifting, and by the time it reaches the table it’s formed back into a beaker. The darkness slivers off the bottom of the beaker, glueing the counter back together. 

Flug steps back, knowing how dangerous the manipulated shadows can be. 

And rams directly into Black Hat’s chest. 

His shoulders jolt, a squeak shooting past his pulsating heart. He tries to retrace his steps, knowing Black Hat is much more hazardous than the shadows even in his state, but hands digging into his shoulders traps him in place. 

Black Hat whips him around, laughing and pulling him into his chest.

This does not help the state of his heart. At all. 

“You’ve outdone yourself Flug!” Underneath his bag the heat from Black Hat's chest attacks. Black Hat never praises him, only ever half doing so once Flug pesters him for some reinforcement that he’s at least done a mediocre job. 

He pulls him under his arm, forearm digging into his adams apple. The pressure has Flug seeing stars. 

Black Hat lightens his grip, arm falling to squeeze Flug’s gloved hand. He twists him around, his other hand snatching Flug’s empty one. He yanks him towards the center of the lab, Flug tripping over his own feet. 

A grand sable piano rises out of the floor in the corner of the lab, near the fixed door. 

“Demencia play some celebratory music!” He barks at her, not looking away from Flug’s eyes, still somehow simpering. 

“On it!” She surges onto the piano, arms soaring up in a dramatic gesture while her fingers wiggle. 

Perspiration swims at the doctor’s temples, steadily leaking down his temples and streaking down his cherry cheeks. 

He already knows what’s coming. 

His hands would be shaking if Black Hat’s biting grip didn't force them to stay still, fingers balked out in Black Hat’s palms. 

Keys pound and echo off the walls, a cheery tune filling the atmosphere. 

Flug’s arms and legs tremble slightly; and with struggling to even swallow, he knows there’s no way he can gather his whims.

Black Hat gives one last squeeze, hand leaving his to rest on the bottom of his back. He pulls him closer, other arm holding Flug’s hand up. He starts to twirl and rock from side to side with him, gaping grin radiating down at him. They dart around the lab, so quickly that Flug’s surroundings dance with them. 

5.0.5 spins around absently, flower bobbing on his head. 

“This is wonderful,” Black Hat jerks Flug closer, hand slipping up to his midsection. He snaps their held hands up in front of his shoulder, tightening his hand around his. Pulling him backwards, they sway along- Flug, admittedly, awkwardly. Countless time’s he’s stumbled, unable to place over whose shoes, and has fallen into Black Hat. 

Black Hat doesn't mind, he’s used to it. 

He drops Flug’s hand, shooting out for 5.0.5’s paw. 5.0.5 blinks, before grinning widely. They’re all spinning in a circle, Flug doesn't know how it happened, and he’s gripping one of 5.0.5’s paws now. 

Black Hat spins 5.0.5 away, rounding back into Flug. 

“Sixty six thousand six hundred, that’s the best I’ve done in months! I’ve secured my place at the top.” His face is inches away from Flug’s. If he breathed, Flug knows he would feel the air skating across his bag. 

His pupils are unmoving, staring directly into Flug’s.

The “nothing can stop me now” goes unsaid in his statement. Regardless of them doing so well, Flug knows Black Hat is bound to return to his usual self soon. Flug telling him he is fresh out of any useable ideas is sure to do the trick; and that all the time in between the previous inventions sales has been a complete waste of time. 

God the sweat is staining through his bag now, he’s sure of it. His bag is sticking to his still blemished forehead from the table earlier. 

Black Hat snaps him away from him, flinging him out. He spins him back in, and around Flug the chalkboard and whites and blacks smear into a constantly moving image once more. Black Hat’s moving them from side to side again, but everything around him still is a whirlpool. 

“Sing for me doctor.” Black Hat rests them back in the position they began the dance with, eyes still boring into his goggles as he slows their pace slightly.

Flug adverts eye contact, met with a bouncing Demencia. The tune halts. “Oooh yeah yeah!! Sing Flug Bug!” The doctor cringes, shrinking out of Black Hat’s grip. His arms bend, caving into his elbows; his pupils dart from hers. 5.0.5 is staring as well, eyes large as he nods rapidly. 

His exhale trips off his tongue, shivering in front of him. “E-erm, u-uh well y-you see, I d-don’t reall-“ 

Tentacles launch out from Black Hat’s coat, rising his body to loom over Flug. Flames erupting in his eyes wash the shadows off Black Hat, drenching Flug in them. His limbs flinch, quivering under Black Hat. A whimper tears up his throat, leaving an ache in its trace. 

One of the tentacles grips around his torso, hard. Squeezing his stomach, Black Hat keeps his hold on Flug’s hand. If it weren’t for his thick gloves, Flug is sure the bones in his hands would have been cracking. 

He growls, rows and rows of spiraled sea-foam green teeth spinning in his wide opened mouth. The flames have shortened, one side melting down to spin in his glowing ruby iris. 

“SING.” The consonants rake up his throat, booming out of his chest. 

Flug’s shoulders jolt- the only thing that can in the position he is in. 

A song. He needs a song. What songs do Black Hat even like? What did he sing the last time? His brain vibrating, yet empty. He tries to retrace back to when Black Hat was in this mood, but man, he can’t remember. All that registers is his brain sending out more and more nerves, absorbing his blood to take its place in his veins. Everything’s trembling, and his lungs are crumbling, straining to fight away from Black Hat. 

He can't think straight! 

Nothing is coming to him! 

And Black Hat isn't at all loosening his clench on him. 

Suddenly, lyrics pop on his tongue. Before he comprehends them he opens his mouth, letting them tumble loose, because he has to sing something. 

“T-the wheels on the bus g-go round and roun-nd-“ 

Inwardly he curses himself, loudly. The yowls shove his shoulders down. Why is that the first song he could think of?? 

Demencia cackles widely, leaning over the piano. Her hands and elbows slam across the keys, the deep pitch ringing out. Her laughter soon silences the tune. 

5.0.5 has stopped twirling, now looking at Black Hat with scrunches brows and shrunken pupils. A whine shivers out of him. 

Shaky lyrics skip out of his wavering lips; and in a blink, Black Hat has wrapped back into his usual appearance. He’s kept his hold on Flug, hand on his back pulling him right into Black Hat’s chest. 

“I don’t even care, your voice is that good, keep going.” He demands, mouth too close to Flug’s ear. 

This. This has to be one of the most humiliating things the scientist has ever done. And there’s a long list of embarrassing moments he has had just in this house alone. 

He can’t even remember the lyrics anymore. Everything is blurring around him, twisting back into pure white. 

His mind won’t shut up. Constant reminders that he has nothing now to work with, and after this all he’s screwed! And, just because life really hates him, this is the song he had to go with! 

“The babies on the bus says-“ he breaks off in sobs. 

Hesitantly Black Hat stops his swaying, pushing Flug a bit back from him, but keeping his hand steady on his back. 

He lowers Flug’s arm, shimming his hand up his elbow to rest on the doctor’s shoulder. 

Rolling his eyes, his beam wilts to a heavy lipped frown. “Oh relax Flug, it’s just a spilled potion.” 

Flug shakes his head, hyperventilating, lowering his head. “T-there’s, I-I-“ The cries consume his vowels, throat quivering around and shoving them down to build in his chest. 

Black Hat clicks his tongue, scowling, and raises a hand. 

Flug shoots up, empty hand leaping to cover his face. 

Shaking his head, Black Hat adverts his gaze, shadows dancing under him. Violet liquid erupts from the floor and, in the snap of Black Hat’s fingers, spills back into the beaker. 

Black Hat knows where Flug’s chin from under the bag, so in one motion has it between his claws. He directs Flug’s head towards the, now full, beaker. “I was going to fix it. See, all better now.” He huffs, glancing back down at Flug. 

The scientist sniffles, tears full in the brim of his foggy goggles. 

He can easily put the beaker under some heat, and get it back to where it was. It’s easily fixable now. 

Flug smiles up at Black Hat, who must be able to see the grin in his eyes, because he immediately looks away. 

Ink pools, bleeding on Black Hat’s upper cheeks. A rare sight Flug has come to know as him blushing. 

“Thank you, Jefecito.” He shyly smiles up at him. 

Black Hat tightens his grip on him, pulling him close once more. Flug’s bag ruffles, nose directly in Black Hat’s collar bone. 

“Just because I made a lot today,” he grins at the reminder, before his mouth levels out again. “doesn’t mean that I want your inventions slacking.” 

Flug smirks knowingly. “Of course not Black Hat, sir.” 

Demencia has picked back up a cherry tune, but this one is a bit lighter.

The moods never do last long. But when they happen, well… they grow on Flug a little by the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not that proud of this tbh ahah but oh well 
> 
> My tumblr: paperhattt


End file.
